(y/n) (y/l/n). A girl from the selfless faction of Abnegation. She lives under the control of Abnegation with her father and younger brother Chuck. She has always imagined her future as one in her original faction, but finds she begins to doubt her...
I wake up with bruises on my knuckles and hands the next day, pain shooting through my body relentlessly. It took me a while to fall asleep last night - I was still wide awake from going out yesterday, not to mention the adrenaline rush I received with Newt's words, despite the physical workout my body received. Still, it takes me even longer to get out of bed this morning, because training will be harder today; we're starting to fight.
My body hurts still as I pull a black shirt over my head, hurriedly getting ready for the day with the other transfers. Breakfast is a quick affair - I try to eat a piece of toast as quickly as possible, and drink a coffee to get the much-needed energy for today's training. The drink only serves to make things worse, however; my body isn't used to the excess caffeine, and all it causes is an increase in the speed of my racing heartbeat.
It turns out I didn't have much to be worried about, though. As soon as I enter the training room, I see that the blackboard has our names written on it, one next to another. But my name doesn't have another next to it - just an empty space. Squinting at the messy handwriting of the blackboard, I read:
Thomas - Minho Frypan - Newt Teresa - Brenda (y/n)
I guess that means I'm not fighting today.
As if he's reading my mind, Jorge strides into the room, closely followed by Mark. "Hermanos, today you'll be fighting one another," our leader says, his voice both strict and casual at the same time. "There are seven of you. One of you won't be fighting today."
His eyes flicker to mine. I breathe a sigh of relief at the confirmation, before a sense of guilt clenches deep in my stomach. I should want to fight - shouldn't I? Isn't that what the Dauntless are for? But at the same time, am I ready to fight? I don't think so - not yet, at least.
"The rules are simple," Jorge continues. "You win if the other person concedes, or cannot continue the fight. Remember to contain the fight to the white circle. Other than that, don't be afraid to injure the other. You should be able to deal with that here, or else you'll be sent right into the factionless ranks. Sound good?"
I gulp, even though I'm not fighting today. It does not sound good.
Minho and Thomas are first up. I don't think this fight will last long. Thomas is strong, but he's no match for Minho's muscled body and athletic frame. He's too confused, too impulsive, and simply not strong enough to beat Minho. The rest of us watch carefully as they both step into the white circle in the centre of the room, ready to begin. The two boys look hesitantly at Jorge.
"Don't both start at once," the older man says drily, rolling his eyes.
Thomas and Minho exchange a look, and then there's a sudden movement as Minho throws the first punch to Thomas' mouth. Thomas takes a moment to retaliate, but soon enough, charges back at Minho, his palms pushing flat against the boy's chest. The impact would have sent him to the floor, if it were not Minho.
Minho swings his hair out of his eyes and stares intensely at Thomas for a long second, calculating something in his eyes, before lunging forward and bringing a knee to Thomas' chest. I wince at the impact, and the harsh sound the collision makes.
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